一幅梦中的大师遗像，一段折返德黑兰与杭州的影像旅程，一部关于电影大师阿巴斯及其遗作《杭州之恋》的纪录片。

76分15秒，代表了去年刚逝世的电影大师阿巴斯的生命，共经历了76年15天。导演、摄影大师、阿巴斯的人生挚友Seyfolah Samadian在其去年逝世后，集结多年和阿巴斯相处的各种素材集中剪辑，完成了这样一部纪录片。影片向我们展现了阿巴斯如何捕捉我们往往忽视的生活细节和精益求精的态度，必定会给热爱电影，摄影和美学的观众带来启示。

兩位年輕的女導演以影像書信的對話形式討論電影、家庭、母職等。運用深刻的個人反思將日常生活體現於電影中。這些影像片段不僅促使兩人審視自己，也彼此分享自己的一部分。透過鏡頭，同時記錄了時代的變化。

兩位年輕的女導演以影像書信的對話形式討論電影、家庭、母職等。運用深刻的個人反思將日常生活體現於電影中。這些影像片段不僅促使兩人審視自己，也彼此分享自己的一部分。透過鏡頭，同時記錄了時代的變化。

A well brought up young man commits an irreparable yet liberating act after a failed suicide attempt.

《我们时代的电影人》中94年的一片

This correspondence, or exchange of letters and video diaries between acclaimed filmmakers Jonas Mekas and José Luis Guerin is extremely potent, there's sorcery at play in the mixture of the two. Together they're light and dark. Mekas knows life's joys, and is always a participant in what he films, Guerín is a detached observer, cold, present only as a black mote, reflected in the eye of one of his subjects. Guerín shoots in black and white and strives for formalism, Mekas loves hazard, loves his chaotic hand-held colour camera. Jonas Mekas felt that his images were inferior to those of Guerín, but a picture of his son Sebastian devouring a pickle, followed by Jonas on the deli sausage and wine, and then a cheeky close up of Goethe's Faust; which of them Faust and which Mephistopheles? That one shot set me thinking about the nature of art and the privilege of artists, and could be interpreted in any one of several fruitful ways. 　　Guerín's Camera is brutal, his viewpoint black, on death and distance. He sends Jonas a morbid video, regarding a Slovenian film writer, which is almost a provocation. One beautiful moment, filmed through a gap in his hotel room's curtains shows a young couple frolicking in the sea, for which brief segment he allows music. It's deliberately voyeuristic though, Guerín is distant he identifies with migrant workers he films in Venice. 　　The films, in an aesthetic sense presents clarity versus confusion, reality versus a dreamer's obfuscation. There's an extent to which what we see is a real correspondence, an extent to which they are talking past one another. Guerín intones that dialogue between filmmakers is an impossibility, over images of fish heads on ice in a market. It's one of two visual quotes I suspected are from Pere Potabella (from Pont de Varsovia). 　　The difference in viewpoint I suspect ultimately is that Mekas sees beauty in the fact that life goes on, wonder in impermanence, Guerín is blanched by it.

This correspondence, or exchange of letters and video diaries between acclaimed filmmakers Jonas Mekas and José Luis Guerin is extremely potent, there's sorcery at play in the mixture of the two. Together they're light and dark. Mekas knows life's joys, and is always a participant in what he films, Guerín is a detached observer, cold, present only as a black mote, reflected in the eye of one of his subjects. Guerín shoots in black and white and strives for formalism, Mekas loves hazard, loves his chaotic hand-held colour camera. Jonas Mekas felt that his images were inferior to those of Guerín, but a picture of his son Sebastian devouring a pickle, followed by Jonas on the deli sausage and wine, and then a cheeky close up of Goethe's Faust; which of them Faust and which Mephistopheles? That one shot set me thinking about the nature of art and the privilege of artists, and could be interpreted in any one of several fruitful ways. 　　Guerín's Camera is brutal, his viewpoint black, on death and distance. He sends Jonas a morbid video, regarding a Slovenian film writer, which is almost a provocation. One beautiful moment, filmed through a gap in his hotel room's curtains shows a young couple frolicking in the sea, for which brief segment he allows music. It's deliberately voyeuristic though, Guerín is distant he identifies with migrant workers he films in Venice. 　　The films, in an aesthetic sense presents clarity versus confusion, reality versus a dreamer's obfuscation. There's an extent to which what we see is a real correspondence, an extent to which they are talking past one another. Guerín intones that dialogue between filmmakers is an impossibility, over images of fish heads on ice in a market. It's one of two visual quotes I suspected are from Pere Potabella (from Pont de Varsovia). 　　The difference in viewpoint I suspect ultimately is that Mekas sees beauty in the fact that life goes on, wonder in impermanence, Guerín is blanched by it.